


Endless, Hopeless

by WindStainedDreams



Series: How to Spin a Tale [5]
Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Gen, NaNo Hell, NaNoWriMo, Robin needs a break, battle strategy, moving an army is hard work, prompt: victory, strategy games, tacticianing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 15:38:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9614483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WindStainedDreams/pseuds/WindStainedDreams
Summary: Was there even a solution to this problem?





	

 

 

Robin stared at the board, tracing the lines with his finger.  The mountain passes were treacherous at the best of times, and now that winter was here, getting their army through the snow covered peaks and back into Ferox was going to be challenging to say the least.  They needed to keep good track of their supplies.  There would be rationing and patience involved on everyone’s part.  There would also probably be lots of wild game jerky, much to Frederick’s displeasure. 

 

There was no easy way to get so many people across such a large distance in difficult terrain.  Only fliers would have any ease of mobility.  Heavily armoured or mounted units would move at most a kilometer a day, burdened as they were.  The carts and supply wagons would struggle.  Even the fliers would suffer, because the wyverns would slowly freeze if they aren’t given the chance to warm themselves at fires along the route. 

 

As far as conundrums went, this surpassed even the battle with the Valmese fleet – in which Robin had set their own boats aflame – in complexity and in potential casualties.  New obstacles, new threats, Robin had yet to face such a task.  Moving entire contingents was always harder than dealing with the smaller group of Shepherds.  There was always so much more he was responsible for. 

 

Robin poured over the maps for days, adjusting the route as he heard back from the airborne scouts.  Avalanches, flooded rivers blocked by ice, rockslides, any natural disaster in the mountains could be sudden and alter the terrain immensely.  Mountain passes that became clear after a storm, or blocked because of one, were also very common.  He absorbed all the reports he could possibly get.  New information was his best weapon. 

 

He considered splitting up some of the forces, based on the type of soldier, so that they would have the easiest path through the frigid mountains.  But that also meant separating already dwindling supplies.  If anything happened and the supplies were lost, the entire party would be as well.  Together they moved slower but had more resources.  Each choice ate at the tactician. 

 

He recorded the army’s progress every day, always one eye open for the possibilities of a new route, or a sudden disaster.  It was grueling.  They walked for kilometers a day, and yet traveled such short distances across the face of the map.  Almost all of their movement was up and down over the peaks and into valleys and back up the next side.  Most units were not prepared for the climb.   They struggled.  Some fell or were injured.  They had to be hauled with wagons.  A train of mules carrying grain went off a cliff, taking much needed supplies with it. 

 

Even at their most narrow, the mountains on the border between Plegia and Ferox were wider than any point on the Plegia-Ylisse border.  Going into Ylisse and around the main body of the range was something to consider, but it would add months to the march, and the mountains would have to be crossed again before reaching the wall guarding Ferox from the southern world.  Time was something they did not have, what with the war with Plegia looming _yet again_.  The many divided factions were tired of warring for their own pitiful resources and seeking new grounds in its neighbours. 

 

The Ylissean army had to get the final convoy of troops and civilians out of the war torn country, _now_. 

 

Each day, with every new bit of information, Robin made the best decisions he could.  He tried to wait for as much information, and confirmation, as he could, but even holding a position was a risk he couldn’t always afford.  They were almost two thirds of the way across when a freak storm coincided with a rare Risen band that attacked, clearly as desperate as the Ylisseans at this point.  It was bloody, and rough, and devastating.  What little supplies they had left were almost all gone; most of the soldiers were wounded if not dead, or missing.  The civilians had no one who could protect them in case of another attack.  The fliers were down, grounded by rough conditions, fierce gales, snow and injuries to themselves and their mounts.  The wyverns were freezing slowly without the camp’s ability to provide large enough fires. 

 

Robin stared at his maps, a dead look in his eyes.  There was nothing else he could do.  The remaining fliers would have to take Chrom, Lissa, the other Shepherds and as many civilians from the diplomatic envoys as they could.  They would bring them out as far as they could fly, hopefully into at least the plains before the wall leading into Ferox, and leave the rest of the army behind to starve or freeze.  There was no way to get the entire convoy out of the mountains. 

 

Chrom, worn and weary, walked up to him and rested a hand on his shoulder. 

 

“It looks like she finally managed to beat you at your own game.  You’ve got a smart daughter, Robin,” he said, voice tired and wry.  “Maybe I should be asking her for strategies instead of you.” 

 

Robin simply shook his head, dropping the last of the reports into a pile on the table that slowly slid onto the floor.  Neither man bent to pick them up. 

 

“How did she even devise this mess?” the blue haired Exalt leaned over the maps and piece, studying them intently, looking at the reports Morgan had given her father as the “days” progressed in their simulation.

 

“She was taught by the best,” Robin’s voice was sardonic, but also proud.  He studied everything before him, trying to see where he went wrong.  Was there even a solution to this problem? 

 

“Shall you inform her of her victory, or shall that pleasure fall to me?” 

 

“I want to figure out my mistake first, if you don’t mind.”  

 

“Suit yourself, but she’ll find out soon enough.  Best of luck, my friend.”

 

Chrom walked back out of Robin’s chambers, a smirk on his face.  His espionage for Morgan had paid off.  Now, she had beaten her father at his specialty, earning bragging rights for the next forever, and Chrom had earned himself an ally in making sure Robin rested.  He had been through a lot, even since his return.  A bit of brain games with family and friends was exactly what the other man needed, and it was something Chrom, and all the Shepherds, were willing to supply. 

 

The next scenario should involve more civilians, though.  Best keep Robin on his toes. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> NaNo Hell Day 5 - Victory 
> 
> So, this started out as a not game, and then it was, and I just let Morgan do whatever she wanted because it was easier than trying to fight her father into doing what I wanted him to do. 
> 
> Please remember to take some time and let an author know what you think with that kudo button, or a comment here or [ on my Tumblr! ](https://tinbramblearts.tumblr.com)


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